Momentum Relapsed
by Lady Mear
Summary: The Trio send themselves back into the past to try to avert the worst of the coming war. But it doesn't go quite as expected! For one thing, they aren't 14, they're 11! HHrR
1. From the Fiery Future

**Disclaimer:** I am making no money from this. Harry Potter and all associated characters, events, places and things are the property of JKR and her affiliates. Anything else is the product of my warped imagination and general irritation with the last book. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Momentum Relapsed**

**Prologue **

In a park, not to far from a street called Privet Drive, a little boy of around ten years of age; stood looking up at the night sky. He had black hair and blazing green eyes that were concealed behind thick glasses with black plastic frames. He was watching a comet trail across the sky. It seemed to be getting closer.

On top of a hill, just outside a town called Ottery St Catchpole and behind a house called The Burrow, a little boy of around eleven years of age stood looking at the sky. He absently pushed a strand of bright red hair out of sapphire blue eyes as he watched a comet cross the sky. It seemed to be getting closer.

A little girl of around eleven years of age stood on the hotel balcony in a small town on the Mediterranean coast and watched the sky. Her eyes followed the path of a comet and chocolate brown eyes narrowed in confusion. She absently toyed with stands of brown hair as it continued looking at the sky. The comet was coming closer.

In the sky above them, the comet continued its journey to Earth, fuelled by power none had ever seen before. It crashed into the Earth's atmosphere and had the knowledge of how to pass safely through. The drive to do so against any odds was also there, as was the ability to think and formulate strategies. The comet wasn't sentient. At least, not in the way a human was sentient, but at the creation, all the knowledge of its creators had been added to it as well as, in part, their personality. It knew what it had to do.

Closer and closer it came, driven forward to complete the purpose of its creation.

And then it was through and hurtling towards the Earth. It split then, the time had come and the three parts of it separated and went to find their owners.

Standing in the park, the little boy stared in shock as the fiery thing that he had been watching burst from the heavens and slammed into him. Then all went black.

On the hill, the little boy was thrown backwards and rolled down to bottom unconscious, a chunk of rock the size of his head held tightly in his hand.

On the balcony, the girl stumbled back into her room as the momentum of the impact threw her to the ground, and she remembered no more.

Not yet.

Just a little longer.

And then they woke.

"Fuck me!"

**Author's notes:The 'Chan' Warning.**

This fiction is a triofic starting in their first year with three adults inside the bodies of three _prepubescent_ children. The mind might be willing, but neither Ron nor Harry is physically mature enough to do anything. There will be a lot of messing about and a lot of sappy moments, but nothing will happen until they are older. Yes, I am aware that some boys of twelve years of age are quite capable of having sex, so thirteen is a given. The reasons why it doesn't happen are in the story.

**Names**

During the war, all operatives were given codenames, Harry is Storm, Hermione is Swift, and Ron is Shade. A single name donates front line soldiers, like the Trio. Two names indicated research (George Weasley is the Green Man, Luna Lovegood is the Ice Lady). A title indicated military command (Lisa Turpin was the White Queen, Neville Longbottom is the Black Knight) You don't really need to follow that, but I thought I'd put it in.


	2. First Changes

**Disclaimer:** I am making no money from this. Harry Potter and all associated characters, events, places and thinhs are the property of JKR and her affiliates. Anything else is the product of my warped imagination and general irritation with the last book. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter 1; Old Friends, Older Faces**

He was standing on the steps of Gringotts Bank, a baseball cap covering his black hair and the oh-so-famous scar. His hands were shoved into black jeans, the product of a shopping trip a week earlier, just after he left the supposed safety of his relatives' house. A black T-shirt hung loose outside his jeans and a wand holster covered his left arm. It was slightly too big, but he's grow into it. A shape detached itself from the crowd in the street and a brown haired girl moved up the steps to him. She stopped just before him and looked him over. "Storm…" the name was breathed through suddenly dry lips.

"Swift." He held out his hand and pulled her into a not quite platonic embrace. It was the best he could manage, here in public and eleven years old.

"Happy Birthday!" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Thanks"

She pulled back, leaving a small kiss on his neck, as aware as he was of their somewhat unusual situation, "Have you seen Shade?"

"Ron, Hermione," the boy identified as Storm chided gently, "And no, I haven't seen him. What went wrong?"

"I don't know, _Harry_. I've checked the calculations a million times since waking up and they still say we should have landed another three years into the future, just after Christmas."

Another figure caught Harry's attention as he broke away from a crowd of red-heads and come over to join them. Hermione hugged him fiercely, giving him a kiss similar to the one she had given Harry, but all the boys could afford to do was clasp hands. Harry squeezed, hoping Hermione was blocking the view from the street. Ron, for who else could it be, turned to her and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what had happened, but he didn't move, content to hold hands as long as Hermione was blocking them from public view.

"As I was telling Harry, I don't know. The calculations are right. I don't understand."

"Maybe it's something we couldn't think of?" Harry said slowly.

"Like what?"

"That spell, it asks the Universe, Creation itself to alter time right?" at the two nods he continued, "Maybe the Universe decided we needed to start from here and not the tri-wizard competition."

Hermione frowned, "I suppose. It feels so weird though, being eleven again and…" she trailed off, but her look was enough.

Ron and Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Some boys… mature earlier then others and we are, technically forty one now, so maybe puberty will hit early this time?" Ron guessed.

"We can still sort you out, Mione, even if it's a while before you can return the favour."

"I suppose so…" Hermione trailed off as she looked around.

"RON, RON! WHERE HAS THAT BOY GOT TO NOW?"

Ron laughed, "I had better go. Happy Birthday, mate. See you on the train?"

Harry nodded, "Same carriage as usual. I'll get the rest of the gear."

With one more squeeze of his hand, Harry let him go. Hermione gave him another hug and then Ron disappeared off the steps and into the crowd.

"So where does that leave you?"

Hermione sighed, "I better find my parents too. Take care, Harry."

"I will, I'll see you on the train."

Hermione nodded and disappeared into the crowd as well. Harry sighed and went into the white building behind him. Now he just had to convince the goblins to do what he wanted. This time _without_ Hermione's help.

It didn't take him long to be ushered into the office of the Head of Inheritance. Glascuck was exactly as Harry remembered him being, short, bald and mean looking. He would also, one day, preside over the goblin Blood Brother ritual between Harry and Griphook. Harry took his seat and waited. He had learnt a lot about Goblin culture during the war and now, thirty odd years into the past; it was only going to help.

Glascuck frowned, "How can I help you, Mr Potter."

"Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name. It's Harry."

Glascuck blinked once at the boy in front of him, "Yes Mr. Potter, I am aware of your name."

"I would like you to use it."

Glascuck leaned back in his chair and frowned again, "That is hardly appropriate, Mr Potter."

"Under goblin law, it _is_ appropriate."

"Only if you are about to ask me a favour." The goblin snapped.

"I am."

"What?"

"I am about to ask you a favour, Glascuck. Therefore you are entitled to use my given name."

"What favour?" Glascuck asked, for the moment putting aside his confusion as to when and where an eleven year old human boy would have learnt goblin culture.

Harry absently rubbed his right hand. Once upon a time, _'I must not tell lies'_ had been carved into it and for some reason, he found himself missing the scar. "Under the 1654 Treaty, if the goblins feel that an heir's guardian in inappropriate, they can remove the child from the guardian and bring them directly under the authority of Gringotts Bank."

Glascuck hissed through razor-sharp teeth. That was an old law, put in place in a time of war and fear to give the great families a safety net. Harry Potter was from an old, old family. The laws could be applied to him, but no one has used that law in years, "Tell me why, Mr Potter, I should bring an outdated law back into play just so you can gave access to your family vaults?"

Harry looked and him, then looked at the ceiling, and then he turned his eyes to meet the goblin's, "You are Glascuck, son of Hutrack, son of Rambada of the _Concilium Domina_. You are the great grandson of the _Domina_ _dux Ducis_ herself." Harry's voice was quiet as he spoke words no human should know.

Glascuck's eyes widened at each sentence.

"My friends and I used a very old ritual to send ourselves back in time to try to change the horrific future that lies ahead of us at present. I need the goblins help to stop that future becoming fact once again."

The morning had passed. Gringotts, for the first time in living memory had closed its doors as debate raged. At the heart of the Goblin City, in the council chambers themselves, the _Concilium Domina_ argues back and forth as they tried to decide what to do. Finally one of the goblins stood up and all the others quieted. The _Domina_ looked around, her ancient eyes trailing over the other council members. At the centre of the hall, sitting on a chair, Harry watched and waited until her eyes met his.

"You have put us in a difficult situation… Harry."

She stepped down from her throne and moved gracefully towards him, "A difficult situation indeed. You know our customs well."

Harry smiled, showing no teeth. As a male, he had no rights in the council chambers and under goblin law he had precious few rights at all. For a male to speak without permission to a member of the_ Concilium Domina_ was still an instant death sentence.

"You may answer my questions. You claim to be from the future?"

"Yes."

"And you claim that your friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, are also from the future?"

"Yes."

"You wish to stop a war?"

"No," Harry sighed, "Nothing can stop this war if the Magical World is to have any kind of future. We want to make sure it doesn't go as badly for us at it did the first time."

"Who is your enemy?"

That was the one question he had so far managed to avoid answering, but asked outright by the _Domina_…

"Lord Voldemort."

A ripple of murmurs spread around the room as the goblins' eyes widened.

"He is dead."

"No, he's not. It's true that his body was destroyed, but his spirit resides on Earth and even now seeks a host. At present he seeks the Philosopher's Stone."

This statement caused even more murmurs.

"Is it safe?" The woman on front of him turned to look at another goblin, the only other male in the room besides Harry.

"It is safe, Domina." Was the response.

Harry tried not to wince as he remembered Ugatan, the _Vir dux Ducis_ at the start of the war, men's leader. He was the only male allowed into the council rooms without invite and the only male with the authority to approach a member of the _Concilium Domina_. He was also an arrogant prick who had, among other things, been against allowing the blood brother bond between Harry and Griphook. Since Harry had every intention of having the bond redone, he knew he was going to clash repeatedly with Ugatan.

There was only one thing for it. He had to convince the Domina he was telling the truth, "This afternoon, Rebeus Hagrid will come here to collect the Philosophers Stone. Sometime after he leaves, Gringotts will be broken into."

There was pandemonium as the council members stood up and began yelling. The Domina simply looked at him, her eyes seeing something very different to what was on front on her. Turning to Ugatan, "Have the stone moved to the council vault. Contact Mr Flamel and tell him that we are upgrading the security measures around the stone and have moved it to a more secure location. If the bank is broken into… Mr Potter… we will grant your request."

Harry nodded. He had already pushed the boundaries by speaking out of turn. In the old timeline, the Domina had recognised his importance, but had never cared for him. In this timeline, he hoped he could change that for very personal reasons.

That night, he sat in his room at the Leaky Caldron, holding his Hogwart's letterr, and watching the clock tick closer to midnight. They had worked out exactly what they needed to do to change things and that had all been thrown away by coming back to early. _Sirius… Dumbledore… Helen and Robert… Ginny… Fred… Bill and his unborn daughter… Hagrid… Flitwick…McGonagall… Rosmerta… Blaise… Lisa… _the list of the death went on, a name each tick of the clock until midnight. They couldn't save them all, but this time, they might be able to save some of them. He watched as Hedwig soured through the open window and then slowly got up to close it. The owl carried no response, but that was hardly surprising. McGonagall wasn't the type to deviate from the norm, even for him.

He undressed and then climbed into bed, but not before setting up a silencing ward and a couple of charms on the door. The blanking potion on his wand wouldn't last much longer and he didn't want to go back to Knockturn Alley for another one. Closing his eyes, he went over the list for the next day once more in his head and then closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He was exhausted from having to deal with the goblins and then waiting for the break-in. Even so, it was a long time before sleep came.

* * *

Thank you for the review, Padfoot2304 


	3. Imperfect Planning

**Disclaimer: **Please see the first chapter.

**Author's Note: **Shade is Ron, Swift is Hermione and Harry is Storm. There is a story behind the names, which eventually will be told. The reason for the code names is explained in this chapter. As for getting rid of them, I would, but they are important to the over all plot. There is a major hint as to why they are important in this chapter.

**Chapter 2; Gringotts**

Contrary to what a certain potions master would have thought, Harry had not spent his week in Diagon Alley lazing around the place. He had spent most of it preparing. His plans largely depended on whether the goblins agreed to aid him, but he could start some of those plans before then, so he did. One of them had been to pick up generic battle robes for the three of them. In a few years, he would salvage the basilisk hide from the Chamber of Secrets and use that to make the ones they would become known by, but for now, while they were still only three quarters if their height, it would be a waste. The robes were black, as Hogwarts demanded their robes be, but they were made of a material called, Abekshke, that would absorb most low and mid level spells. While basilisk skin would take most of the high level spells as well, they weren't expecting to need that yet.

He had also picked up wand holsters and the dummy wands they would use over the summers to keep the ministry and Dumbledore off their back. Dumbledore was a great man and fifty years ago, he had been a great leader. Harry had a great deal of respect for him, but he had made mistakes… lots of mistakes and rather then try to fix them, he had simply refused to see and continued on regardless. Of all the causes of the long and brutal war looming in the future, Dumbledore's actions were responsible for more then half of them. Tom Riddle was responsible for most of the rest, although Harry could admit that for some of them, the blame rested on him, or on the other members of the Trio. This time round, the trio intended to neutralise Dumbledore as quickly as possible. The wizarding world may need him as a symbol, but they needed him to leave them alone.

He had been on his way into a small bookshop, when Griphook found him.

"Griphook! It's good to see you again, how have you been?"

If most of the surrounding people were surprised to hear a wizard speaking to a goblin as a friend and equal, they had nothing on the goblin himself as he stared at the human wizard, "I am fine, Mr Potter. I am to bring you to Gringotts."

"Sure, no problem." Harry cursed himself, he had been that delighted to see his brother; he completely forgot that in this time, Griphook had never met him. He was just thankful he remembered that before he gave the traditional goblin greeting. At the moment, not even the _Domina _knew he spoke their language and he wanted to keep it that way until he was sure of where he stood with them.

Harry wasn't really that surprised to find all the paperwork ready for the transfer. Goblins were nothing if not efficient. What he was surprised to find were three sets. The office wasn't that big, but it was big enough to fit the _Domina_, Harry, Ugatan, Griphook (who hadn't been dismissed), Harkick, the Bank Manager and Gligbet, the Potter Account Manager, who was looking slightly worried, comfortably.

Ugatan sneered at Harry for a moment and then said, "Let us get this done."

"You may speak at will, Harry." The _Domina_ said softly.

"Why are there three sets of forms?"

The _Domina_ and Harkick shared a look before the old woman settled herself more comfortably and said, "After you left last night, we continued talking. We made the decision to take Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger into our custody as well. Weasley is the youngest of six boys and has a younger sister as well. Granger is muggleborn. We think it would be easier on everyone if you had the option of staying together."

Harry nodded, not really surprised and looked at Gligbet, "I want to split the Potter Foundation into four equal parts. With your agreement, Harkick, I believe I can bypass the underage restriction."

"That is correct."

"Are you sure that is wise? I mean, shouldn't we at least inform his magical supervisor?" Gligbet was looking slightly panicked. Since Harry already knew where this was going, he had no sympathy for the goblin.

"No, we won't. Once these papers go through, Gligbet, Dumbledore won't be my supervisor."

"I know, but…"

"Is there something you need to tell us, Gligbet?" the _Domina_ asked.

"No, _Domina_." Gligbet's shoulders slumped, defeated. The Domina looked at Harry, who shook his head slightly and then indicated that it would be better for her not to pursue it.

"If we do it this way, there will be fewer complications with Mione and Ron, since they will be heirs to the Potter Foundation." Harry explained.

The goblins nodded.

"And the forth part?" Harkick asked curiously.

Harry closed his eyes slightly, "That share will go to my brother."

"You do not have a brother, Harry." The _Domina_ said softly.

"Not yet." Harry corrected, then he looked directly at the Domina, "But I hope in this timeline, as in the last, I will gain one."

The goblins eyes widened at the implications. No goblin had blood-bonded themselves to a wizard in over six hundred years.

"Preposterous!" Ugatan snapped.

"That's what you said last time." Harry said, "Didn't stop us though."

"I demand the name of this goblin!" Ugatan was on his feet.

"No." Harry said softly,

"You…"

"Be quiet, Ugatan." The _Domina's_ voice silenced him, "If this goblin chooses to blood bond, it is their choice."

Ugatan sat down, but his glare told Harry he had made a dangerous enemy.

"Now, Gligbet," the _Domina_ continued, "the forms please?"

One hour and forty minutes, three floo calls, seven shouting matches, six headaches and two cups of tea each later, there was only one thing left to be sorted out and Harry was looking forward to it.

Harkick sighed and slumped into his chair, "Now that's sorted. You are now officially a ward of Gringotts. All we have to do it sort out the Potter Foundation."

Gligbet began to sweat, "Surely that can wait. We could all do with a break…"

"No, I would rather get finished." The _Domina's_ voice was hard. She had noticed. "Unless Harry, you wish a break?"

"No, _Domina_, I am happy to continue. The sooner this is done, the better. The files, please?" Harry said the last to Gligbet with a very nasty grin on his face.

It took another three hours to get the latest mess sorted out. The _Domina_ was furious. Harkick looked ready to declare war on Dumbledore. Ugatan was trying very hard not to be angry for the human boy. Griphook was stunned. Harry was sadistically pleased and Gligbet… Well Gligbet has been sacked, arrested and had already counted his lucky stars that the Domina hadn't ordered his immediate death. She was at least giving him a trial. It would be a farce once word got out, but maybe Dumbledore could do something. It was his fault he was in this mess.

A goblin spell had caused the Potter Foundation files in Dumbledore's possession to burn. The original's, stored in the Council Vault at Gringotts had been retrieved and a new copy had been ordered. In the mean time, Harry had instated Griphook as his new account manager and signed the forth quarter of the Foundation to be held in trust until the Blood Brother ritual. Harry was still refusing to tell them who his brother would be, but from the looks Griphook kept sending him, Harry's greeting earlier that day had given the plot away. The _Domina_ had asked Harry if he was sure of his choice, pointing out that Griphook was still entry level. She had been struggling to give the best advice she could while still showing support for her great grandson. Harry, who already knew this, found the entire thing hilarious. He had solved the problem by saying that he had appointed Griphook in the other timeline and since the goblin had done an amazing job, he didn't plan on changing that. The _Domina_ had relaxed and looked proudly at her grandson. Harry relaxed as well. His great grandmother's… dislike… of Harry had always been a sore point for his brother. This time Harry intended to make sure it didn't become an issue.

Albus Dumbledore had been sitting at his desk, flicking through the Potter Foundation files, trying to determine if there was a pattern to the boy's spending and more importantly, trying to work out what the boy was doing in Diagon Alley without protection. He had to assume that Harry had somehow managed to talk his aunt into taking him, although he personally couldn't think of anything that would get Petunia Evans-Dursley anywhere near the magical centre of Britain. It was a pity he had had to leave the boy there, but there had been no other way.

A green whoosh from the fireplace broke him out of his musings and he looked over to see the tear-stained face of Molly Weasley looking out of his fire. "Molly, my dear, what ever is wrong?" He stood up and moved over to the fireplace, taking a conveniently placed chair to he could talk to her without having to kneel down.

"Oh, Albus! The goblins! The goblins are taking my baby!"

For a moment, Albus tried to think of a situation where that would be probably or even possible, then changing his mind, he said, "What do you mean, Molly, why are the goblins taking Ginerva?"

Through the sobs, he managed to catch four words. Four words that made the blood drain from his face. "Molly, I will go to Gringotts myself. Please, get Ginerva organised and meet me there. I'm sure there has been a mistake."

_Ward… Potter Foundation… heir_

"It's not Ginny, its RON!"

"Well, get Ron ready then."

It made no sense.

The door had just shut behind him when the book he had been reading burst into flame, startling a squawk from Fawkes.

Gringotts was busy, but not immensely so when Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and into the lobby. He answered the greetings with a nod and a smile and made his way to one of the queues. He made no request or even indicated that he was in a hurry, but as usual, everyone in the queue ushered him to the front and within a few minutes he was speaking to the goblin. That was when things started going down hill.

"I would like to speak with Gligbet, please." It never hurt to use the goblins' names. It threw them off.

"There is no Gligbet working for Gringotts."

"I assure you there is, he is the account manager for the Potter Foundation…"

"There is no Gligbet working for Gringotts. The manager of the Potter Foundation is Griphook."

"Then can I speak to Griphook?"

The goblin looked down his nose at the wizard on front of him and then routed through the papers on his desk. He held up a piece of parchment and looked over it. "No."

Dumbledore blinked, "I beg your pardon?"

"You are not on the list of people who may interrupt Griphook's meeting with his clients."

Dumbledore wasn't sure what he would have said in reply to that because at that moment, Molly Weasley dragged her son up to him, looking expectantly on. Dumbledore sighed. It was going to be a long day.

An hour later, Molly Weasley, Albus Dumbledore and Griphook were sitting in the latter's office, getting increasing frustrated with each other. The _Domina_ hadn't given Griphook much room to manoeuvre and Harry and Ron had disappeared into one of the empty offices further down the hall within moments of seeing each other, so they were no help at all. Dumbledore was not used to being denied and Molly Weasley's constant wails weren't helping.

"For the last time, Mr Dumbledore, under the 1645 treaty, if the goblins feel that an heir has been placed with an inappropriate guardian, we can remove said heir into Gringotts' custody. Mr Potter is now a ward of Gringotts. The reasons for Mr Potter's generosity are his own and have been approved by the bank manager. Due to the situations both receivers are in, Gringotts felt it was in the best interests of all concerned that the three heirs to the Potter Foundation were kept together. Gligbet is awaiting trial as we speak for gross misconduct because he gave you access to the Foundation files. I do not intend to do the same thing."

"Griphook…"

"Mrs Weasley," Griphook continued over Dumbledore, "the paperwork has already been filed. Your son is now a ward of Gringotts. We are happy to allow contact and he may return to your home whenever he wants. However, due to the wealth he has been gifted with, we decided it would be in his and your best interest if the money was not a temptation." He glared at Dumbledore, who managed to look completely serene at the comment clearly directed at him.

In another room Harry moan slightly at the feel of Ron's hands on the skin of his back. They weren't the calloused hands of his memory, being smoother, younger, but they were still Ron's hands. Harry tilted his head a little more to allow his tongue easier access to Ron's mouth for a few more moments before they broke away gasping. Harry rested his forehead against Ron's chest and sighed. He wasn't surprised that his body didn't react to what they were doing, but it did piss him off. They were years away from being able to quench the heat between them, annoying, but true. Ron slid his hands out from beneath his T-shirt and they held each other for another few moments before separating and pulling their robes back on.

"Why the change in plan?" Ron asked.

"Not my choice. The _Domina_ wants us together. I can't argue with her."

"Stupid customs. Don't see why we need a woman to speak for us."

"They say the same thing about us. Why do they need a human to speak for them?"

Ron sighed, "I know, Storm, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"I wonder if Griphook has thrown your mum out yet."

Ron snorted, "Don't even joke about that. Come on, we should probably join them."

"Yeah, but that means dealing with Dumbledore."

"I know."

With one last gentle kiss, the boys separated and left the office, walking slowly towards Griphook's office.

The entered the office quietly, looking around the glaring adults. Dumbledore spoke first, "Well Mr Potter, you seem to have caused quite the conundrum."

"Really, Professor Dumbledore, you make it sound like I have done something wrong. The goblins have decided that my aunt is unsuitable as a guardian and exercised their right to remove me."

"So I have been told. However, I am curious as to how you know our young Mr Weasley." It was a statement, but a statement that demanded an answer.

Harry shrugged, "That is really none of your business." His eyes slid away from the headmaster innocently as if he was simply looking around the room, but Dumbledore caught the shift that made sure they never made eye contact. It took every bit of control he ever had to stop he reflexive response. Potter knew of legilimency and more importantly he knew the headmaster would use it against him. He turned to look at Ron who also slid his eyes away, looking instead at he mother with a small, sad smile. Dumbledore couldn't stop his eyes widening.

"Mum, this is for the best. This is something I want. Can you just accept that?"

"Ron, you're only eleven…"

"Maybe, but would it hurt to let me try?"

"Ron…"

"I know… I hope that one day you will look at Harry and Mione like they were you own children, but please, mum, let us do this?"

"Who is 'Mione'?" Dumbledore asked.

"I am."

All the adults jumped slightly as they turned to look at a small girl standing in the open doorway. She walked over to the headmaster and held out her hand, "Hermione Granger, or Mione as these two insist on calling me."

"Albus Dumbledore, at your service."

The girl nodded and turned to Molly, "Mrs Weasley?"

Molly would have sat down if she hadn't already been seated at the look of pure, unadulterated longing in the girl's eyes. There was something going on here and she may not have known what it was, but she did know when a child was desperate for support.

"Yes, dear. Alright Ron, there isn't much I can do about this anyway," Molly took the girl's hand in her own, "But I expect all three of you for dinner tonight."

Mione smiled and squeezed Molly's hand, then turned to the others, "My parents want to take the three of us away for the weekend. We'll be leaving on Friday at 5, okay?"

Ron and Harry nodded.

"In the mean time, I have some shopping to do. Coming, you two?"

"As long as somewhere besides Flourish and Blotts is on the agenda." Harry laughed.

Mione scowled and then laughed, "Oh you…" She mock slapped Harry, who dodged out of the way, laughing.

Saying goodbye to the adults, the trio left, leaving a frustrated headmaster, a pensive Molly and a relieved Griphook.

"First…" Hermione said, and dragged the boys into an empty office. Shoving the door closed behind them, Ron watched as Hermione jerked Harry to her and smashed their lips together. Harry didn't need much encouragement as he opened his mouth and allowed her tongue inside. His arms rose up behind her, pulling her tighter against his lean frame and they both moaned at the sensation. Unwilling to be left totally out, Ron made his way over and took up position behind Hermione. He slid his arms around her and under her T-shirt, tracing up her belly to just below where her breasts would one day rest. He was tempted to keep moving up, but was unwilling to disappoint himself. Hermione was eleven now, a young girl, not he woman his body had once known so well.

Hermione seemed to sense his indecision and took the matter out of his hands, by breaking the kiss with Harry and turning inside the circle of their arms. Ron got one look at her blinding smile before temptation proved to much and he lowered his lips to hers, feeling Harry's arms snake around him as well, as the Boy-Who-Lived held them close.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione pulled apart, "It feels weird…" Hermione trailed off.

Ron snorted as he felt Harry's arms loosen around him, "Yeah."

"The next few years are going to be hard."

The boys murmured agreement as they straightened their clothed and moved towards the door.

Hermione bit her lip. The boys shared a look and stopped to look at her. She always bit her lip when she was about to suggest something they wouldn't like. It had even given them away once, when they had been running from Death Eaters and had tried using glamour charms to loose them.

"What?"

"I think maybe…"

"Mione."

"I… Ithinkweshouldtrytokeepourrelationshipasplatonicaspossibleforthemoment."

Ron and Harry shared a look again and this time it was Harry who asked, "What?"

Hermione sighed, "I think we should keep our relationship as platonic as possible for now."

"What?"

"Why?"

Hermione sighed, "Lets get some ice-cream."

A few minutes later they were sitting at one of the outdoor tables at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, each with a sundae on front of them. Hermione was frowning at Ron's.

"Okay, Swift, what's up?"

The name drew another frown from Hermione, "When you were eleven _Shade_, you didn't like raspberry."

Ron blinked and looked down at his summer fruits sundae.

"Harry, you were muggle raised, at eleven you didn't know anything about the magical world. You live in Surrey, Ron lives in Devon and I live in Lancashire. There is no potential way for the three of us to know each other, particularly Ron. Originally we would have had a history together. You could have fumbled anything you shouldn't have known with me telling you, but…"

Harry began to swear… inventively. Hermione kicked him under the table when one of the men at another table looked over to the eleven year old in surprise.

Ron frowned, "You've lost me."

"We screwed up."

"I got that much."

Harry sighed, "We started the plan we made for forth year, Shade. But we don't have the support network that we would have had then. We're acting like we did when we were fourteen or even older because that's what we're been conditioning ourselves to do since we came up with this plan. For example, we shouldn't know each other yet. By forth year, the idea of the Golden Trio was set in people's minds, but at the moment, we're simply three very precocious children. Getting me out of Durskaban needed research, research that Mione would have supposedly carried out in third year. Instead an eleven year old muggle raised child walked into Gringotts quoting an obscure Treaty that most of the goblins don't remember. And that's just the big things; you didn't develop a liking for raspberries until you were in your late teens. Your family, particularly the twins, would have noticed. Swift has more social skills now then she had when she was fourteen. I'm much more grounded then I should be after ten years of abuse, although granted the war has made that less noticeable. And the blasted names! We are so used to using the code names that we slip into it automatically. But we don't need them because Voldemort hasn't developed the tracking spell yet."

Ron frowned; twelve years into the future, Voldemort would blanket Britain in a spell that tracked spoken names, zeroing in on certain names when they were spoken _to_ their owner. The Trio had been the first people caught by the new tracking method and had been behind the almost immediate use of codenames by the Light side.

"Lots of people use nicknames, Harry. I don't think that they'll be much of a give away, but you might have a point about the rest. We need a cover story and we need it by dinnertime. Oh and what do you want to do about Wormtail?"

Harry blinked, "You know, I'd completely forgotten about Scabbers…" Shaking his head, he added, "Let's sort the cover story out first and worry about Wormtail afterwards."

Hermione and Ron nodded and they got to work.

Later, as the three made their way to the Leaky Cauldron to floo to the Burrow, Ron turned their attention back to the original question, "So why the platonic relationship?"

Mione sighed, "We can't afford to draw any more attention then we already have. I never mentioned this before because it never seemed that big a deal, but next Christmas, McGonagall will corner me about my friendship with you two. Basically, the staff will be worried that I'm the only girl in the Trio and McGonagall will try to get me to 'widen my circle of friends to include at least one more girl my age' to use her expression."

Both boys stopped walking to stare at her.

"What?"

"I…"

"We…"

"Bloody hell, Swift, what did they think we were doing?"

"I don't think they thought we were doing anything, Ron, but I don't think it would be a good idea to do anything to encourage the belief that we are. Plus, we're eleven. There's already going to be talk, we don't need to give them another reason to be suspicious of us."

Ron grunted, but he had to agree. Harry was silent, largely because he couldn't think of anything to say. They were getting close to the Leaky Cauldron when Ron asked a question that had been nagging him all day, "Harry, if we're meant to be in Gringotts care now, where the heck are we meant to live?"

Harry laughed, "I've made arrangements with a muggle hotel for us to stay there."

"You found a muggle hotel that will let three unsupervised children stay there?" Hermione asked.

"They seem to be under them impression that our parents are staying at their biggest rivals for a series of very important meetings. We've been causing them no end of trouble, so they're putting us up somewhere else to keep us out of the way."

Hermione blinked in surprise, but Ron roared with laughter and slapped Harry on the back.

The Burrow was exactly as Harry and Hermione remembered it. Quietly, so only they could hear, Ron said "When I came round and was looking at it, I thought I was going to burst into tears."

They nodded. The Burning of the Burrow was the mid way point in the war, when Voldemort's power started to decline. Not only did Molly and Bill Weasley perish in the flames, but Bill's wife, Fleur miscarried their unborn child as a result of her injuries. She took her life three days later. Only Ron, Ginny and George would survive from the Weasley family, although whether George counted as survived was debatable. When the Trio had left, he was in Longbottom Asylum and the general opinion was he would never recover.

Harry and Hermione bit back their emotions and greeted the family. Within a few minutes, Mrs Weasley had then all sitting down and their plates loaded with food. With one look, the Trio made a silent promise that, this time, the Burrow would still be standing at the end of the war.

"So, how did you three meet?" Arthur asked. He had taken the news that Gringotts had taken custody of his youngest son better then Molly had.

Hermione answered, "I met Harry about five years ago in London and we've kept in touch ever since. I met Ron in the Village about… three?" she paused and looked at Ron, who said,

"Four."

"Four years ago and again, kept in touch. When Ron found out who my other best friend was, he wanted to meet him so they started writing as well and well…" Hermione shrugged.

Harry jumped in before anyone could say anything, "I'm sorry, Mr, Mrs Weasley, I asked Ron to keep my identity a secret. I know how I'm viewed in the magical world and I really don't like it. I didn't want him to be constantly pestered by people asking him for my contact details. That's the reason we've been using nicknames."

On the face of it, it made perfect sense and Mr Weasley simply nodded, although later he asked if there was anyone else Ron was friends with that they should know about. Ron was very tempted to say Draco Malfoy, but he resisted. Ginny was totally silent the entire way through dinner. Although the Trio noticed, none of them really had any idea what to do about it. None of them really knew how to react to her obvious crush on the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

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